


Pool - Light

by methadone (lucretiafly)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pre-Slash, Sick!Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucretiafly/pseuds/methadone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt challenge for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/sick_wilson/tag/camp%20sick%21wilson">Camp Sick!Wilson</a>. Prompts were "Pool. Light."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pool - Light

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairings:** H/W friendship/pre-romance, mentions of Wilson/Sam &amp; House/Cuddy  
> **Word count:** 300  
> **Spoilers:** Set post-S6 finale; general spoilers for that.  
> **Beta:** Valuable input from the wonderful [ariadnes_string](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnes_string) brought this from something lame with potential to something that - I hope - actually passes for good!  
> **Disclaimer:** Only the words belong to me, and even then I think 'House' and 'Wilson' belong to Fox :(

He had taken Sam on summer vacation. Florida, luxury hotel, spa. The honeymoon they couldn't afford that first time round, and a well-deserved break from work. An escape, of sorts, though he had hidden that particular detail from her.

At the hospital - around House, around Cuddy - the thought is constantly there, a whisper on the edge of hearing. _How long can you live like this?_

He doesn't want to hear it, and so he runs.  


* * *

He doesn't know how he ended up in the pool. A puddle of water, a discarded towel, an energetic child; any of these is an option, none of them matter now. All that matters is the sharp pain in his head and the pressure growing in his lungs, and everything frozen in crystal in that split instant before the body panics.

There is light from above, filtering down through the water. A shadow, rippling at the edges, solidifies into a face; dark except for blue eyes opened wide in shock.

Pale blue eyes, watery like his world. Not vivid, electric, intense. The wrong blue eyes.

In the crystal clarity, he understands: He can't go on like this. Something has to change. With realisation comes a new desire for life: A need to run _towards_ instead of away.

His heart beats and his blood flows and there isn't enough oxygen and his body protests. His lungs are bursting, his brain fogging; blackness creeping in as his muscles flail in a weak attempt at surfacing. Looking up once more, he fancies the blue is deepening, and if it's just the effect of oxygen deprivation, he doesn't mind. He forces himself upwards, towards those eyes, knowing now where he has to go, and as he breaks the surface he gulps in air around that name: "House."


End file.
